Is 2 the new 21?

I don’t often shop for children’s clothes, but I realized tonight that a friend’s daughter is  turning 2 in 10 days, and with Fiddler in full swing, I was fairly certain I was not going to have time to go shopping and ship the gift.  Enter Amazon.com.  As I scrolled through my options I became more and more appalled at the clothing designs for toddlers.  Pencil skirts, bikinis, fitted jackets abounded.  Dresses with spaghetti straps, empire waists, and faux wrap dresses (seamed as if these three year olds actually had breasts) were the norm rather than the exception. 

What happened to children’s clothes? Clothes cut and intended for a child’s figure? Clothes that look like a child should wear them rather than a small adult? They were only nominally represented in the selection, and they were at least 5 times more expensive.

Why do we want our three year olds to look seven times their age?

Yuck

I’m not sure I could describe myself as being really hip to the latest fashion trends.  I will acknowledge that there are lots of things out there that I can’t believe people are wearing; I find them mind-boggling ugly.  Some of this is a result of my own personal hangups (I’m sorry, but I don’t think I could ever wear plaid and stripes together, regardless of what WNTW says).  But, since I do make some of my own clothes, I think I have a decent handle on how garments are put together and the notions that are type appropriate.

We had a vendor representative in the office today to show us their on-line ordering system.  From the front, she looked very put together: fitted jumper in a pin-stripe suiting material, white blouse, dark tights, and heels.  Basic professional wear.  Then I followed her down a hall and noticed (because I really couldn’t NOT) that the zipper for her dress was a huge brass affair – a longer version of the kind popular in jeans – with no attempt to hide it.   Why, why, why would such a thing be put in a suit dress? I could see it being put into a dress you would wear out to a club.   That’s a more casual atmosphere and, let’s face it, the eye is forced to follow that zipper to it’s conclusion – which could be a great thing when you’re on that dance floor. 

When did zippers become something you wanted to show off anyway?  There’s a REASON there are so many colors available – so that you can match to your garment.  They serve a purpose; leave the decoration to the other notions.

Please don’t put me in front of that flag…

Yesterday, my boss was proposing an idea to our operations department and I was listening in.  “I want to put pictures of all our field people on the wall so we have an idea of who everyone is.”  While there were a few jokes about mugshots, we all thought this was a great idea.  I know I, for one, have a hard time matching names with the various faces, which, since I’m in HR, is not the friendliest impression.  He continued, “I want them to stand in front of a flag.”  Before I could stop myself, I made a face.  He looked at me.  “There are some companies that start their day with the pledge of allegiance.”

“You’d never get me to do that,” I replied.

“I think we’d better stop this conversation right now.”

The vice-president chimed in, “You’re just like that atheist that doesn’t want the pledge said because of the word `God’ in it.”

At this point, regretting that I hadn’t been able to control my reaction, but not really wanting to get into a political/religious/philosophical discussion, I went back to my office, fairly peeved. 

Here’s my thing.  The flag has become such a meaningless symbol since 9/11.  Everyone is displaying it, using it for backgrounds, printing it on letterhead.  I refuse to contribute to its degradation.  It is a symbol of a wonderful country (though not always the most likable), and thus deserves to be treated with respect.  Instead, its presence is so overabundant that it has become meaningless.  I often want to ask the users if they can describe the symbolism and history of the flag (because there’s a reason that it looks as it does).

I have a similar beef with the pledge.  First of all, my objection to it has nothing to do with my religious beliefs.  I take issue with rote learning, particularly rote learning in children.  If a child wants to say the pledge, that’s fabulous, but they should be able to understand what it means, and then have the choice to not say it.  I also object to bringing politics into the classroom in anything other than a class exercise.  Let’s face it, that’s what the pledge is.  It was instituted during the Cold War and has been foisted on unsuspecting children ever since.

I’m somewhat annoyed that the hoopla over the religious aspect of the pledge has caused people to believe that that’s the only reason someone would refuse to say it.  It’s become the knee-jerk response: she won’t say it therefore she must be an atheist.  It’s become almost convenient; no one wants to hear that there might be other reasons.  God forbid that anyone other than atheists would object to the pledge.

The Manipulations to be Gifted

Step 1: Read this post

Ah, those formative years.  I had a significantly different educational experience in elementary school.  I don’t really remember much of my school career before my parent’s divorce.  I went to my (suburban) neighborhood school.  Kindergarten was kindergarten.   I was in a 1st/2nd grade class for 1st grade, and my dad later told me that some school administrator told my mom that I wasn’t bright enough to be in that class, which sent my mom into such a fit that the administrator recanted and put me in the class.  I knew none of this.  I do know that in 2nd grade the teacher was grateful to have a handful of us from this class, and actually gave us independent study projects (which I didn’t grasp…I just copied chapters out of the classroom encyclopedias).  This was the first year I remember seeing students bussed in from the city.  But, my parents separated the fall of that year, and I moved to Los Gatos with my mom.

The Los Gatos school district was pretty small at that time.  There were, I think, two elementary schools, one junior high, and one high school.  In my elementary school, there was only one class of each grade (until sixth grade, and then there was a fifth/sixth class).  I remember my 2nd grade teacher commenting that I was very advanced in reading (I was placed in the highest reading group immediately).  But I don’t remember being anything other than average.  The school did have a GATE program: those who were registered as such got special classes in the afternoon a few days a week (I have no idea in what) while the rest of us had a reading hour (and I was just as happy to read my book, thank you).  I was either never tested or had not performed well enough to be considered for GATE.  My fourth grade teacher was a new teacher who had all sorts of new teaching ideas.  One of these was group teaching in math.  We had workbooks to work through and tested out of each one into the next level.  Here is the first time I remember being advanced – I made it to pre-algebra before the school year ended .  There was only one other girl in my class who reached the same level.  It was the first year I actively worked towards straight A’s.

While I was not considered for GATE classes, the school still had a number of programs that were open to all the students.  We all got science classes for a couple years.  In fourth grade, we all got a semester of violin; in fifth in recorder.  There was a violin and band program that was district wide.

I was not officially “gifted” until junior high.  It was decided to send me to San Diego for junior high, and for the first time, I remember a parent advocate for my education.  I don’t know how my dad researched all the schools that he did, but he decided to enroll me in an IB feeder school.  In order to be guaranteed a place in the “advanced” or pre-IB classes, he was told that I would have to test into the GATE program.  He sent me to be tested.  I remember this as being a HORRIBLE experience.  I don’t even know why, now.  I remember it being a written exam (like an SAT), I remember the room being really crowded and hot.  I remember that I was completely pissed at him for enrolling me in this school, taking me away from all my friends (which was totally unfair…the decision was, I’m sure, mutual for both my parents).  When he picked me up after the test, I was in tears.  “Don’t ever make me do that again,” I begged.  I didn’t test into the program.  My first class of 7th grade was Social Studies, with at least 50 students in it, split between two teachers.  Within two weeks of starting school, I was sent to the library to be retested again.  This test was totally different.  It was not written; it was a set of puzzles.  I enjoyed it (and apparently passed it, because I obtained my “gifted” status), but I went home and railed at my poor father anyway.  He denied any knowledge of it (which may be true – looking back, it’s entirely possible that an administrator was just trying to cross his t’s in order to ensure me a spot in the class), but pointed out that with so many kids in the class, not being “gifted” could mean getting dropped, and what was the point of that?

Unlike Yolanda’s experiences (or rather her parent’s) with administrators, I don’t really remember my parents having to manage my education until junior high.  To be fair, I’m not sure there was much to manage in Los Gatos, and I’m not totally sure it would have happened if it needed to.  My mom and I were dealing with lots of issues around the dissolution of my parent’s marriage that I suspect the teachers forgave me a lot (I was the only kid with divorced parents in my new 2nd grade class, never mind my mom’s partner choice).  I did get the distinct impression, though, that my junior high WANTED me.  They wanted my middle-class, white face.  They wanted a student that had a high probability of passing into the IB program and taking home that IB diploma, and going off to college.  They wanted that success story, which is exactly what I gave them.  The whole experience leaves me feeling manipulated and used.  And here is where I hate NCLB.  I actually loved the IB program, and I made friends that I have to this day in those classes.  I would love to see all schools be able to offer this curriculum, but they can’t.  Not only is it expensive,  it doesn’t fit in the generic framework.  You have to have some pretty fabulous teachers and administrators to punch and mold it so it will fit, and that makes my heart sink.  There shouldn’t have to be such back flipping in order for students to read Fuentes or Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Atwood.  An administrator shouldn’t have to test and retest an obviously smart pupil to guarantee him or her access to advances classes.  Instead, everyone is boxed into this milktoast curriculum that teaches to the lowest common denominator.  It makes me weep.

The Battle of the Hall

Gentle Reader, the following is a rant, and I’m very, VERY mad.  It may contain strong language (or may not, I make no guarantees).  You have been warned.

I don’t think that I have ever come so close to hitting someone.  I have never had someone say something to me that made me so angry that I almost totally lost control.  Even thinking about it now is enough to cause a cascade of red to envelope my sight.  But, I desperately need to take a several hour nap if I’m going to make it through tonight, so I’m going to unload.

A bit of back information: I teach for the local branch of the RSCDS, an international organization that is based in Edinburgh.  Unlike Highland or Irish dance, we are not considered a “school” and we are not affiliated with any dance studio (as many of the “schools” are).  We rent our facility from a local organization, the YLI, that happens to own a hall with a suitable floor.  Midtown Sacramento (where this hall is located) is an older section of the city with lovely Victorian homes (that have mostly been converted into apartments), and interesting restaurants and stores.  It is also being rebuilt at an alarming rate.  As a result, halls that we can use are disappearing rapidly. I am more than thankful that we already have a long-standing rental relationship with the YLI (going on 10 years).  And, it’s worked pretty well. 

The YLI, I should mention, is short for the “Young Ladies Institute”, and I should also mention that the “ladies” are not particularly young.  They’re fairly elderly, and can get, at times, a bit forgetful.  My class is a Saturday morning, and there are times when the hall has been double-booked.  I’m usually fairly accommodating about this; the hall has two rooms, and while the second room is quite a bit smaller, it can serve in a pinch for a children’s class (they’re small). 

A local theater group has been renting the hall to run rehearsals.  It has happened several times that due to various miscommunications my class and their rehearsals have conflicted and we’ve all shown up wanting the same facility at the same time.  I’ve always taken the smaller room, trying to avoid conflict.  The facility coordinator tries very hard to accommodate both our groups, but sometimes dates get marked wrong.  When I made my reservations for this month (in August, mind you), she mentioned that the theater may need the hall, so we agreed that I would be out no later than noon so that they can have it for the afternoon.  This is no problem.  Last week, I checked the calendar in the facility and noticed that the group was down for today from 10-6.    “Uh-oh” was my immediate thought.  We have a performance on the 17th , and today (the 10th) is the last rehearsal we have before that.  There is no way I can do a final run through in that tiny room. 

Tuesday I called the coordinator.  “I’ve already called and left them a message to tell them that they cannot be in until noon.  I will call them again,” she told me. 

All is well.  Then I arrived this morning.  Both rooms had people in them, and the larger was set up for a scene, complete with furniture.  I stuck my head in the smaller room.  “I have this hall until noon,” I said.  “Yes,” was the reply, “we’re just cleaning up.”  Satisfied, I started bringing my stuff into the larger room.  On my second trip through I said, “I have the big room until noon.”

“Yes, we should have been here earlier, but we’ll be out soon.”

What I didn’t realize was that I was talking the the cleaning service.  I proceeded to set up my computer and speakers, ignoring the whispers I heard behind me.  As I pulled stuff out of the locker we have there, a young woman walked up to me.  “We’re on the calendar for today from 10-6″.  “

“Yes,” I said, “I called [the YLI] this week, and they left a message with your scheduler that I have the hall until noon.” She looked at me.  “I would normally accommodate you,” I continued, “but we have a performance next week, and I need this room.”

She wandered off.  5 minutes later the director walked up to me.  “I understand we’ve been double-booked.” 

“Yes.  I will be out at noon”

“That won’t work, we need to rehearse.”

“Well, we have a show next week, and I called this week to make sure that you guys knew I would be here until noon.  A message was left with someone at your organization by the YLI.”

At this point, he was told that another facility was available for them, and they began to move out.

“Can you get the furniture out of the middle of the room?” I asked.

“That’s going to take a bit of time.”

“That’s fine, I don’t have any students here for another 45 minutes.”

As the room was being cleared, the director turned to me and said, “I want you to know that we could fight you on this.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We have just as legitimate a reservation as you.  I’m choosing to be nice and not fight you on this.”  He stopped and looked at me.  “You can say ‘thank you’ now.”

I stared at him.  I was totally speechless.  “…”

“That’s all I ask in return for accommodating you.”

I took a deep breath.  “Thank you,” I said through clenched teeth.

“That’s all I wanted.”  He then turned and left.  I meanwhile wanted to punch something.  I have never, ever, had anyone talk to me like that.  And yes, I was, perhaps, a bit snippy.  Remember, we’d been kicked out of our normal facility by this same group two times before, and I HAD CONFIRMED MY TIME.  Not only that, but I had made my reservation BEFORE they did.  Not only that, we have been renting from this hall for 10 YEARS.  They started, what, last spring?

I will admit that I was a bit inclined to go from 0 to bitch in under 5 seconds.  It was early in the morning, and I’ve been averaging 4-5 hours of sleep this week because of Brigadoon.  But, I felt that I’d bent over more times for these people than they’d had the courtesy to to for me, and I HAD confirmed with the hall that I was to be there until noon.  Their internal communication issues are not my problem. 

One of the crew came back for something they’d left behind about 20 minutes later.  I apologized for my tone, reiterating why I felt I had the right to the hall.  She didn’t accept my apologize, and gave a fairly snotty “good luck” as she left.  If the implication was that I was rude and unreasonable, what were they?

A Parody Paradox (a rant)

I should be in bed, but the damage has already been done.  Hopefully my students will forgive me tomorrow.  I just survived my first rehearsal of Brigadoon.  Anyone who has performed with community musical theater will understand what that means.  The cast, crew, and musicians can all be amazingly talented, and the first day of tech week is always a nightmare.  The good news: technically, tech (ha ha) week starts Sunday, so I’m one-up on the other half of the orchestra that didn’t show for our “optional” rehearsal.

It’s never, ever fair to judge a show on the first run through.  Actors are still missing marks, forgetting lines, and we lowly musicians are all sight reading (for the most part).  So, it all resembles a bit of a train wreck.    I did walk away tonight, though, with a reasonably warm feeling.  The cast is great (and appreciative – always a wonderful thing when you’re not getting paid).  No, my issue has less to do with the production and more with the actual show itself.  I was hesitant to sign up because I was afraid of the content, and I have been proven correct.  My rigid RSCDS stick-up-my-butt training is finally surfacing.  Between the composer’s interpretation of a “reel” – which floats between 2/4 and 6/8 – and  some of the glimpses of what passed for Highland arms and what I think was meant to be a country dance circle, I’m going to have a hard time biting my tongue during this run.  And I absolutely don’t blame the choreographer (much, anyway), because he or she had less than authentic music to try to devise several visually interesting dance numbers with people who vary in dance experience from not much to 20 years of ballet.  So, kudos to whoever they are.

Here’s my complaint (finally): Does authenticity not matter anymore? Did the composer ever set foot in a Highland games to hear what a reel actually sounded like (or look at a transcript of one)? Does anyone realize that Highland dancing is a predominantly solo style of dancing, and while it looks flashy, is not traditionally done in groups of people?

When people learn that I teach Scottish Country Dance, 99% have the same initial response: they either throw their arms up in a (usually awful) parody of Highland arms and hop around, or do some sort of funky tap thing that’s meant to imitate Irish hard shoe.  If you read this, and you are one of those people, break yourself of this habit right now.  It’s incredibly annoying and you look like and idiot.  I think everyone should try SCD; it’s loads of fun and a great social activity, but there are not a lot of great examples out there as to WHAT SCD is.  Brigadoon certainly isn’t one; if you’re lucky your local Highland games will have a few performing groups.  RSCDS branches around the world are dealing with problems of dwindling and aging memberhips; I am facing a class of kids tomorrow, and if I have six I call it a good day.  I think a real world solution to many of these problems is to funnel more money into the education goal of the society, and I mean educating the public, particularly that outside of the UK.  We do not get SCD in school, and Riverdance is the first thing that pops into any American’s head when they hear Celtic music (just for the record, Riverdance is an Irish dance troupe).  This “education” however, needs to not be in the form of some fuddy-duddy video on how to do the perfect pas de Basque.  Show something fun…go to a bunch of branch parties or balls and show people having FUN – where they aren’t necessarily caring about footwork, or that everyone’s outfit matches.  They are dancing for the sheer joy of it. 

Update: After working on my part a little, I fell to the realization that what I assumed to be part of the “reel” (the number is titled “Sword Dance and Reel”) and was in 6/8 was actually intended to be a strathspey.  In 6/8! No! No! No!